“Then I will see you in court. As far
as I know, torture is illegal in this country…”

“Who said I will torture you?” I said. “But
I know what will torture you more.”

A tic ran through her face. For an
instance, anxiety clouded her expression, but she recovered immediately.

“I thought by now you knew that
waterboarding, sleep and food deprivation, and pain don’t work on me,” she smirked.

PHOTO: www.wickbeavers.blogspot.com

“When you and Khalid left the
University of Nairobi, you went to Mombasa. Someone who believed in your cause
took you in…” I started.

Her face turned pale. She looked at me
with frightened eyes.

“They took in your children… oh, you
didn’t think we’d know about them? Dear me.” I paused to let that sink in, then
continued, “Despite what those human rights activists and their greedy
organizations tell you, Fardousa, they don’t rattle the snake that is the
government. Why? Because the government registers their organizations, waives
taxes on them, gives them grants, and finances them to yell about human rights
violations to keep the opposition relevant. So, those NGOs who claim to expose
human rights violations by the security agencies don’t like being linked with
terrorism.”

She looked at me stonily.

“Fardousa, no Muslim for Human Rights
lawyer is coming to defend you. Same as Kenya Human Rights Commission. As far
as MUHURI is concerned, you are a terrorist. They have distanced themselves
from you. Prevention of Torture Bill has never being signed into law. Know what
that means? I am the law now…”

“So what? You’ll kill me? The better. Allah
will hold a party for me in Jannah…”

“As I told you, no one will torture
you, or kill you.”

I snapped my fingers and they were
marched in. They were handcuffed, and gagged. When she saw them, she was like a
demon, possessed. She lunged at me, but that is as far as she went.

“Don’t you hurt them,” she screamed.
“Don’t you hurt them, you heathen, infidel…”

When they saw her, the children started
crying.

“You cannot do this, they are
children…”

“What about the thousands of children
you will be killing? Are they not children?”

I signaled for the oldest, the boy, eight
years old, to be put on the table in the far end of the interrogation room and
strapped, facing up. I was ready to do anything to stop a bioterror attack in
Nairobi even if it meant torturing children.

I placed a towel over the boy’s face
and took a jar of water. I started by letting the water trickle slowly, but
when that did not move her, I poured the whole jar. And another one. The boy
jerked up, and began to spasm.

“Stop! Stop!” she screamed. “Stop, I
will tell you what the target is.”

***

Fardousa was a nursing student at the
University of Nairobi when she was arrested three years ago for conspiracy to
commit a bioterrorism attack in Kenya. She was found with weaponized botulinum
toxin when the National Intelligence Service intercepted communication linking
her to a planned attack in the country that year. Investigations established
that her husband, Doctor Khalid, a medical lecturer at the university, was the
leader of the bioterrorism cell that was planning the attack.

Fardousa, her husband, and five other
medical students from different universities and colleges, were arraigned in
court; but they had no case to answer. Lack of evidence. The other students
went back to school, but Fardousa and Dr Khalid went underground till yesterday
when someone fitting Fardousa’s description was spotted at the Jomo Kenyatta
International Airport, Nairobi.

***

“Promise, please, that nothing will
happen to my children,” she said.

“I can’t promise because I don’t know
how your children will turn out to be, they could be terroristlets for all I know.”

“They don’t have to suffer because of
me…”

“Don’t worry about that. We are not all
savages as your radicalized jihadi mind thinks,” I told Fardousa. “Believe me,
when your son thinks of this day and what he felt when I waterboarded him,
he’ll think twice about becoming a terrorist... now, what’s the target?”

Fardousa stared at me. She took a deep
breath, then said, “It’s Ngethu. Ngethu Water Treatment Plant…”

“When? How?”

“Today, that’s when,” she wet her lips.
“And for how, what do you think? It’s the botulinum your corrupt justice system
took money to release me with…”

I did not wait for her to finish. Over
six million people in Nairobi could die by just turning on their water taps.